e castle. The marquise thus remained alone
with the abbe, the chevalier, and a chaplain named Perette, who had been
attached for five-and-twenty years to the family of the marquis. The
rest of the household consisted of a few servants.

The marquise's first care, on arriving at the castle, had been to collect
a little society for herself in the town. This was easy: not only did
her rank make it an honour to belong to her circle, her kindly
graciousness also inspired at first-sight the desire of having her for a
friend. The marquise thus endured less dulness than she had at first
feared. This precaution was by no means uncalled for; instead of
spending only the autumn at Ganges, the marquise was obliged, in
consequence of letters from her husband, to spend the winter there.
During the whole of this time the abbe and the chevalier seemed to have
completely forgotten their original designs upon her, and had again
resumed the conduct of respectful, attentive brothers. But with all
this, M. de Ganges remained estranged, and the marquise, who had not
ceased to love him, though she began to lose her fear, did not lose her
grief.

One day the abbe entered her room suddenly enough to surprise her before
she had time to dry her tears; the secret being thus half surprised, he
easily obtained a knowledge of the whole. The marquise owned to him that
happiness in this world was impossible for her so long as her husband led
this separate and hostile life. The abbe tried to console her; but amid
his consolations he told her that the grief which she was suffering had
its source in herself; that her husband was naturally wounded by her
distrust of him--a distrust of which the will, executed by her, was a
proof, all the more humiliating because public, and that, while that will
existed, she could expect no advances towards reconciliation from her
husband. For that time the conversation ended there.

Some days later, the abbe came into the marquise's room with a letter
which he had just received from his brother. This letter, supposed
confidential, was filled with tender complaints of his wife's conduct
towards him, and showed, through every sentence, a depth of affection
which only wrongs as serious as those from which the marquis considered
himself to be feeling could counterbalance. The marquise was, at first,
very much touched by this letter; but having soon reflected that just
sufficient time had elapsed since the explanat